


Broken Like Me

by hollow_bones



Category: Marble Hornets, Slenderverse - Fandom
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Bonding, Gen, Platonic Relationships, Post-Canon, Redemption, everyone deserves a happy ending
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-07
Updated: 2020-10-15
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 16,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25132102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hollow_bones/pseuds/hollow_bones
Summary: a year after the events of Marble Hornets Timothy Wright is still on the run headed north, when he meets a troubled young run away in Colorado. It turns out the two have a lot more in common than he thought, and they soon learn to heal together and overcome their demons.
Comments: 33
Kudos: 74





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> I'm quite new to Archive of our own so please bear with me! I'm currently regressing into my 2013-2016 creepypasta phase and wanted to write some happy fanfiction for some of my favorite characters. I realize Tim is a part of Marble Hornets and is in no way canonly associated with Ticci Toby or creepypasta, but I felt like these two would just be so fun to write together. This is just my own little head canon, so keep in mind most of this stuff won't be canon. :)

Tim gripped the steering wheel tighter and leaned forward, struggling to see in the pitch black darkness and the dizzying flurry of snow that flew at his windshield. He doubted his battered red pick up truck was suited to handle slick ice and snow, so he drove slowly despite the urgency in the back of his mind. Even after a year he couldn't shake the feeling that he had to keep moving, and he rarely found himself sitting still. Tonight however, he had begrudgingly decided it safer to spend at least one night at the closest motel to wait out the storm. Growing up in Alabama he had never seen snow fall this heavily, and he felt on edge and out of his comfort zone. He hadn't been this far north before, but he had heard about the peaceful and beautiful tranquility of Colorado and decided it a decent place to spend a few weeks. should've waited until spring to make this trek, he thought with a grimace.  
Just when he thought he was going to go insane from sleep deprivation and snow blindness, he saw the dim neon lights of a motel in the distance. He parked outside the small building, shutting off the engine and taking a deep breath. His fingers still gripped the steering wheel, the knuckles of his hands turning white. It took the last remaining bit of strength he could muster to force himself out into the cold and into the main office of the motel. He was greeted by the pitiful jingle of bells as he opened the door. The room was small and stagnant, the only semblance of life the tacky log cabin decorum and the bored looking clerk. The man at the desk was older, with patchy five o' clock shadow and scraggly shoulder length hair. It took him a moment to notice Tim's presence, and when he did all he offered was a blank stare and a small nod.  
Tim cleared his throat and rubbed his gloved hands together, activating his southern pleasantries, "Uh, evening. I'd like a room please?" The clerk, whose name tag read Darryl, released a long labored sigh and leaned forward in his creaky swivel chair, sliding over a guest register sheet and a pen.  
"It's 85 a night," Darryl drawled, returning to his crossword puzzle.  
"Er, thank you," Tim scrawled his name onto the nearly blank sheet of paper and slid it back across the counter, exchanging it with the key that Darryl had ready for him.  
"Breakfast is served from six to eight," Darryl added. Tim stuffed the key into his pocket and shook his head.  
"Thanks but, I'll be out of here by then." he pulled out his credit card and paid before he trudged back outside, the door bells jingling in his wake. 

He must've underestimated how exhausted he was, because the next morning Tim woke up and sunshine was spilling through the plastic blinds. He shielded his eyes with his hand and rolled over, checking the alarm clock that read 8:30. He groaned internally. He had hoped to be on the road again by 6:00, but perhaps it was for the best. He didn't want to fall asleep at the wheel and crash. After all he'd gone through dying in a car accident would be very undignified. He hastily packed his few belongings into his duffel bag and stepped outside into the chilly morning air. The snow had stopped, and the ground was a pristine white blanket that glittered in the sunlight. He took a moment to admire the pale blue sky and the tall pine trees. If he ignored the freezing cold and the mountain peaks in the distance he could almost pretend he was back home in Alabama, but the daydream was quickly banished and he trudged through the snow to his rusty pick up truck.  
The nearest town was only fifteen minutes away, and soon the towering pine trees gave way to quaint shops and cabins. The town square was already fairly busy, people opening up stores and greeting friends. It was perfectly normal, despite the fact that there wasn't a mall or a movie theater in sight. He came from a small town too, but even this was far more secluded than he was used to. He had parked his truck in front of a general store and was admiring the hand painted welcome sign in the center of the town square. population 9,000. Tim removed his heavy jacket so that he was only wearing his flannel coat and wandered inside the general store. An old man with rosy cheeks and a mustache was stacking canned goods and turned to wave at Tim when he heard the door chimes.  
"Good morning!" he said cheerfully. Tim offered a wave and a polite smile, ducking behind an aisle. He was inspecting the beef jerky in his hands, I miss real food, he thought, when he heard the door chimes announce the arrival of another customer. Two middle aged women were chattering loudly and headed straight for the donuts, stopping to say hello to the old man. Tim kept his head down as he shopped, but couldn't help to eavesdrop.  
"It's just terrible! The last one was in the next town over, so it seems he's moving quickly," one of the women exclaimed.  
"At least they're getting less violent. The last few survived with just a few injuries," the other woman pointed out. Tim's interest piqued and he sidled closer to listen further, pretending to pick out some sunflower seeds.  
"Still, I hope the mayor puts a curfew on the town. If that nut job is wandering around out there, who knows who could be next," the first woman said. 

Tim absentmindedly placed his stuff onto the counter, and the old man hurried over to begin ringing him up.  
"Could I have a pack of Marlboro's too?" Tim asked, scratching at the scruff on his jaw. He was handed the cigarettes and groceries, but before he left Tim hesitantly cleared his throat.  
"I'm only staying in town for a day, but I need to make some quick cash. Do you know if there's any odd jobs around town I could pick up?' Tim asked quietly. The old man placed his hands on his hips and nodded to himself, thinking.  
"The lumber yard could always use extra hands for chopping wood. You can never have enough firewood in Colorado during the winter, it's in pretty high demand. I'll give you directions, you ask for Bill and tell him Cliff sent ya," the old man gave him that same genuine smile and Tim nodded gratefully. He had a week's worth of food in his arms, he would make some extra cash today, and then he'd be gone. Back on the road, running once more. 

Tim fished out another jerky stick from his bag, tapping along to the beat of the song on the radio with his other hand. Night was falling again, and the town was already ten minutes behind him. He had been able to make a hundred bucks, enough for gas and another cheap motel room. He was grateful that the roads were clear, and it wasn't supposed to snow again until the morning. Hopefully that meant he could drive farther than he did yesterday, and put more distance between him and... well, he just wanted to go farther. He wasn't sure where he was going, but he knew what he was running from. He tried not to think too much about it, but he could already feel his chest tightening and his head spinning. He was about to reach for his medication when a figure suddenly darted out into the road, and he slammed on the brakes, squeezing his eyes shut until he felt the truck come to a screeching halt.  
"Holy shit," Tim's eyes flew open, and he immediately scrambled out of the truck, breathing heavily. Great, he must really be off his rocker, the road was empty. But he could've sworn he saw- Tim's train of thought was cut off when something slammed into his back, pushing him onto his knees. He rolled onto his back and blocked his attacker by kicking him with his boot, but the other man barely reacted. He attempted to straddle Tim, but he was already onto his feet, swinging a fist into the face of his attacker. Tim winced when his knuckles met the metal mouth guard the other man was wearing. He swung again, this time in a upwards motion that found it's mark in his attacker's stomach. Once again, the man didn't react, instead it seemed he lashed out with even more ferocity, brandishing two hatchets from his utility belt and swiping at Tim with the deadly blades.  
In the darkness, all Tim saw were swinging hatchets and the metal grin and wide orange gaze of his attacker. He dodged a slice from the Hannibal Lecter wannabe and stumbled backwards. The other man was clearly skilled at this, the weapons moving as if they were an extension of himself. However Tim was physically stronger, and he surged forward, tackling the attacker to the ground and pinning his wrists by his head. He squirmed beneath him, thrashing his legs and trying desperately to wrench his wrists out of Tim's grasp. With one hand Tim snatched away the hatchets and threw them away, moving his hands to the strangers throat and squeezing. His vision went blurry with rage, and his head spun. He had to stop. He couldn't get out of control, he couldn't become that thing again. Tim released the person underneath him, grabbing him instead by the collar of his coat and shaking him aggressively.  
"All right, calm down or I'll fucking knock your lights out," the person ignored Tim's order and struggled some more, earning him a harsh shove into the asphalt. "I said calm down!" Tim shouted, and the person stilled. He could hear heavy breathing distorted by the eerie metal mask. He wondered what lay behind the round orange goggles, which reflected in the headlights of Tim's truck that bathed them like a spotlight. Tim grasped the goggles and ripped them from his face, but the only thing he could make out was curly brown hair and closed eyes. Hesitantly, Tim pulled open the man's eyelid, but his eyes were rolled back into his head.  
"Shit." he must've shoved him too hard and knocked him unconscious. He got off of the figure that now lay still, placing his hands on the back of his head and blowing out an exasperated sigh. He should probably jump into his truck and book it, but something told him he needed to know more about this person. Hell, if anything, maybe he'd get a cash reward for turning in a hatchet wielding maniac to the cops. He doubted it, but nonetheless he found himself digging into the tool box he had in the back of his truck and pulling out long coils of rope. Tim bound his wrists first, noticing the bandages that wrapped the part of his arms that weren't covered by his coat sleeves. Next he tied his ankles into a tight knot before binding his arms to his side. Satisfied with his work, Tim threw the person onto his shoulder and made his way back to the truck, shoving him gracelessly into the passenger seat. He barely made a peep as Tim fastened the seatbelt over his chest, which was moving in slow, deep, breaths. Tim retrieved the hatchets from the side of the road and threw them into his tool box before he hopped behind the steering wheel and took another deep breath. He couldn't drive for hours at night in the snow with a murderer in his passenger seat. The safest bet would be to head back the way he came, find somewhere to stay, and see what he could do about his new little friend. "I thought I had finally escaped all this weird crap," he muttered under his breath and began to drive back into town.


	2. Chapter Two

Tim was greeted once again by the familiar ringing of door chimes and the musty smell of a poorly heated motel main office. Darryl looked up from whatever computer game he was playing and managed a mildly surprised expression.

"Back again? Our service can't be that great," Darryl joked. At least Tim assumed it was a joke, Darryl's tone of voice didn't seem to raise above a bored lull.

"I've stayed worse places," Tim replied awkwardly, "Can I book a room for one more night? Something... came up," he cast a look outside the window to where his truck was parked, the prone figure of the stranger that attacked him on the road slumped in the passenger seat. Darryl shrugged and once again the two exchanged money, papers, and a room key. The trick was to non-conspicuously transfer an unconscious person from his truck to the room, but either Darryl didn't care to meddle in people's business or wasn't watching because soon Tim had the stranger inside and tied to a chair. All the movement must have woken him, and soon two brown eyes were groggily blinking up at Tim while he was tying the last knot. He stood back, watching cautiously as the person slowly took in his surroundings.

"Dude. Where am I?" he croaked. Tim, taken aback, cleared his throat before answering.

"In a motel room. Now go ahead and tell me who you are, and why you attacked me. I'll be bringing you to the police so there's no point in lying to me," Tim tried his best to sound confident, but his voice wavered. He hated when it did that, he used to be so good at playing cool. The person in the chair's eyes widened, then grew darker. Tim could see how blank and forlorn his eyes were underneath the mop of wavy brown hair.

"Look, I don't... I don't remember what happened. I barely remember the last two weeks," the person talked slowly and nervously, his voice far too gentle and quiet to belong to the vicious killer he had met earlier. "But trust me," he began again, "You have to let me go. For everyone's sake. If he wanted me to kill you, he'll be pissed that I failed." Tim's brows furrowed. He had seen plenty of crazy and delusional people, hell he still feels like he is, but something about the person's voice was filled with such fear that Tim felt there was more.

"Who wanted you to kill me? Why me?" Tim demanded, pulling up another chair to sit directly in front of him.

"He- wait, where's my stuff?" the person's demeanor changed quickly, and he began to twist around in his chair irritably.

"Your hatchets and goggles are in my bag, so shut up. I need you to answer me or this is gonna be a lot harder for you," although Tim felt like he wasn't being very convincing, the other person eyed him up and down and settled again, submissive. Instead of answering Tim's question however, he simply shrugged and planted his gaze to the floor. Tim sighed in resignation.

"Will you at least tell me your name?" he asked.

"S'Toby," the person mumbled.

"Toby?" Tim repeated. Toby nodded.

"I'm Tim. I'd say it's nice to meet you Toby but you tried to kill me," Tim leaned back in his chair and crossed his arms, inspecting Toby closely. He had a notch in one of his eyebrows, which were furrowed over his cold gaze. He refused to make eye contact with Tim, instead shooting furtive glances around the room before returning to stare intently at his worn boots.

"I'm starving," Toby declared suddenly, lifting his head to look just past Tim's shoulder. Tim blew through his nose. This guy was really starting to get on his nerves.

"I'll get you something to eat under two conditions," Tim began sternly, "One, you have to promise to not attack me or I'll knock you out again. Two, you need to answer at least a few of my questions." Toby pondered this for a moment, tilting his head like a thoughtful cat before nodding slowly.

******************************************

Tim watched cautiously as Toby tore open a bag of potato chips, reaching up to unclasp the metal face guard. When he dropped it into his lap, Tim had to suppress a noise of surprise. Instead of a scraggly drifter, Tim was looking at a clearly young teenager. Despite the dark circles under his eyes and the solemn expression, Tim could see the softness of youth in his face. It was his young age that made the scars all the more unsettling. One across the bridge of his nose, a few on his cheek and around his mouth, and some that criss crossed over his hands, which were revealed when he took off his leather gloves. Most were old and faded silver, save for one fresh one that went vertically over the corner of his mouth and was still raw and red. He wondered if that's what the bandages around his arms were for. Toby's legs and chest were still strapped to the chair, but he used his free hands to start munching quietly on the potato chips.

"How-how old are you Toby?" Tim asked after he had allowed Toby to enjoy a handful of chips in peace.

"Eighteen." he responded. Eighteen. Just a kid. Tim briefly remembered himself when he was eighteen, young and troubled but excited for life nonetheless. He remembered going through college, all the good times with Brian and even Alex. Why did it all go to shit?

"Why the hell is an eighteen year old running through the woods at night attacking people. Where are your parents?" he demanded. Toby just shrugged.

"I don't know. I don't really remember anything about myself up until last year," Toby scarfed down one last chip before crumpling the bag and throwing it over his shoulder. Great, an amnesic homicidal kid, Tim thought to himself.

"I just remember him. Just him. And the things he asks me to do," he hesitated, "But I usually don't remember when I've done them. Which is good I guess," he mumbled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his coat.

"Who's 'Him'?" Tim asked, leaning forward. Toby finally met his gaze, and Tim was looking directly into those wide, dark eyes. He saw the same kind of unbearable pain, sorrow, and fear he often recognized in himself when he looked in the mirror.

"If I talk too much about him, who knows what could happen," Toby's arm jerked across his chest before falling back down at his side, "He's always watching." Tim grew cold, colder than if he had been standing in the snow. He had heard those words, seen them scribbled senselessly on crumpled pieces of paper.

"The.... The Operator?" Tim spoke so quietly his voice was almost a whisper, his throat bobbing as he forced the words out. Toby's dark eyes glazed over.

"If that's what you call him," he mumbled with a half shrug, "No wonder he wanted me to... to hurt you. You've seen him before," Toby's head snapped to the side and his neck cracked, followed by him anxiously cracking his knuckles. Tim slumped back in his chair again, running a hand through his hair and taking a deep, shaky breath. It had never occurred to him that they weren't the only ones. That maybe this creature had torn apart other lives. Maybe multiple at once, all over the world. He couldn't tell whether that was a comforting or simply sobering thought, knowing that others had gone through the same thing he had. He wondered what this poor kid had had taken from him, besides his memory. That alone was scary, Tim still felt fuzzy when he tried to remember those swathes of time that went missing, when he would take on that other persona. More than time had been taken from him, from all of them. He studied the teenager, who was staring absently at the wall, and for once he felt like he had a little bit of purpose. He wasn't sure if he could trust this kid, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't terrified to be back in this mess again, but something in the boy's face broke him. He thought of Brian, of Alex and Jessica. He thought of Jay. He had been running for a whole year, but what kind of existence was that, to be constantly moving and afraid? He didn't want to be a coward anymore. He blamed himself for what happened, for his cowardice back then. Maybe he couldn't have saved the others, but he decided that evening that he would try to save this one.

*******************************************

Once Tim had ensured he had hidden the hatchets safely where Toby couldn't find them, he untied him. He was slightly taller than Tim, and Toby seemed to notice this. The corner of his mouth twitched into the ghost of a smirk.

"Take one of the beds and get some sleep, we can talk more tomorrow," Tim rubbed his eyes and threw off his tan coat, not even bothering to lay under the covers and flopping onto the bed. Toby hesitated before sliding into the other twin sized bed, curling up in the scratchy flannel sheets. He must have been tired, because Tim hadn't even turned off the lamp when he heard Toby quietly snoring. He sat up for a few more moments, watching the boy's chest rise and fall slowly under the mound of blankets he had hidden himself with, before he rolled over and turned off the lamp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I'm having so much fun getting back into these fandoms, but of course that means I may get some stuff wrong. I'll be rewatching Marble Hornets again soon to do more research!


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have not written in a looong time so I apologize for how poorly written this story will be. I have a basic idea for the plot figured out but I'm mostly just winging it and having fun, so thanks for being patient and sticking around! Another thing, this story will sometimes describe mental health issues as well as disorders, such as tourettes syndrome (obviously). I did as much research as I could and I am trying to be as accurate/respectful as I can, but if something in the story seems inaccurate or hurtful in any way please don't hesitate to tell me so I can educate myself and do better!

Tim woke up to the sound of rushing water and realized that Toby must have decided to take a shower. He figured he hadn't had one of those in a while, and probably needed his clothes washed too. He rummaged through his duffel bag and pulled out a blue flannel shirt and some sweats and knocked on the door when he heard the water stop.  
"Hey Toby, I'm going to take our clothes to be washed, I'm leaving these here for you to wear in the meantime," Tim called. There was a pause before the door unlocked and opened slightly, and a pale hand passed Tim a pile of clothes that he exchanged with the clean ones from his duffel bag. He briefly wondered if it were wise to leave Toby unattended with all of his stuff, so he threw on his tan coat and took his wallet and car keys just in case. He remembered seeing a wash room next to the main office, so he spent a few quarters to have his and Toby's clothes washed and dried. While they were in the cycle, he checked the clock. 6:45, he should still be able to get breakfast. Darryl was sipping on a steaming cup of coffee when he walked into the main office, and he offered Tim a friendlier greeting than usual.  
"G'morning," Tim mumbled, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "Can I order some breakfast to my room? Two plates please," he added hastily. Darryl raised an eyebrow.  
"Huh, sure thing," he replied. Tim nodded awkwardly and excused himself, fetching the finished laundry and returning to his room. When he opened the door he found Toby sitting cross legged on one of the twin sized beds,hunched over with his arms folded tightly across his chest. He noticeably jumped when Tim entered the room, eyeing him with mild suspicion. Tim tossed him his cleaned clothes.  
"I'm gonna hop in the shower. Someone will be dropping off breakfast soon, don't answer the door, just wait for him to leave it." Tim shut the bathroom door behind him. He couldn't wait to finally have a hot shower. 

*****************************

Not even two minutes passed before Toby heard a knock at the door. He practically jumped out of his skin, stumbling while pulling on his shoe. He froze still, his heart pounding in his chest while he listened for the sound of footsteps walking away from the door, but someone knocked again. That lumberjack Tim guy needed to hurry the hell up.  
"Okay uh, I'll just leave them outside the door then," called a gruff older voice from the other side. He pressed his ear against the door, and once he was sure the guy was gone he opened the door just a crack. There on the doormat sat two plates of food. Toby's stomach involuntarily growled, and like a timid animal he reached forward and snatched the tray of food into the room, locking the door behind him. He eyed both of the plates hungrily, but only took one and sat on the floor with his knees to his chest. The cold eggs, floppy bacon, and dry toast were like a gourmet meal, and he scarfed it down quickly, wiping his hands on his black jeans. He swallowed thickly at the sight of his bare forearms, which were littered with scars and bitemarks. He had thrown the old bandages away, so he would need to get more. The door to the bathroom clicked open and Tim stepped out, pausing to look with a puzzled expression at Toby sitting on the floor.  
Toby watched Tim warily as he went about his business, pulling on his work boots and eating his breakfast. He could not for the life of him understand why Tim was showing him this much kindness. Besides the part where he was tied to a chair of course. The Operator must've sent Toby to kill Tim, hence the last two weeks of blank memory and his run in with Tim last night. It had been quite a while since Toby had interacted with another person, he had mostly talked aloud to himself or to the birds to prevent himself from going more insane than he already was. He never dared to speak to the Operator, and he imagined even if he had he would not remember. Everything was constantly fuzzy and confusing, he just learned to accept the blackouts and missing chunks of memory. Toby was pulled from his thoughts by Tim clearing his throat as he joined him on the floor, sitting cross legged.  
"Alright so.. The Operator, tell me how it er, chose you," he began. Toby narrowed his eyes, attempting to suppress a tic to no avail and jerking up his shoulder.  
"I told you before, I don't remember anything. He was just... there," Toby mumbled with a shrug. He was lying of course, he thought with a small twinge of guilt. The earliest memory he had was of fire, and flashing lights. He remembers the fear and confusion that seemed to wash away into blackness when he looked into the flames to see the tall faceless creature reaching towards him. But Mr. Lumberjack here didn't need to know that, he told himself. Tim's jaw clenched and for a brief moment and Toby felt an unfamiliar panic, like Tim was going to lash out and hit him, but instead Tim nodded patiently.  
"What CAN you tell me?" he asked. Toby began to compulsively chew on the inside of his cheek, mind racing. Maybe it would feel good to talk to someone and tell them about what happened, especially someone who understood the Operator. But Toby knew better. He'd play it safe for now, until he was certain he could trust Tim.  
"My full name's Tobias Erin Rogers," he said instead, "And uh, I like red licorice?" Tim groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose. 

****************************************************

  


Getting Toby into the truck had been difficult. He had refused to get inside, crossing his arms and shaking his head like a child. He explained to Tim that he was terrified of cars, (for reasons he did not know) but after plenty of coaxing and the promise of more snacks he was buckled into the passenger seat. However, the last hour of driving consisted of him constantly moving. Tim could see him in his peripheral twitching and jerking, all the while tapping his foot or rubbing his palms on his legs anxiously. Occasionally he would click his tongue, or clear his throat exactly three times. It was driving Tim mad.  
"Can you just sit still?" He blurted out in frustration. He couldn't see Toby's expression but could practically hear him roll his eyes in the way he spoke.  
"Uh no, I can't. I can't help it," he explained, crossing his arms.  
"Yeah you can, just... I don't know, focus on counting cars or something." Tim suggested. Toby's brows furrowed in an "are you kidding me?" expression, and he gestured at the empty road ahead and scoffed before crossing his arms again.  
"Wouldn't work anyways. I literally can't help it, it just happens," he said in an annoyed voice. Tim glanced at him for a moment, and it clicked. Even in just the few hours he knew Toby he noticed he rarely sat still, even his mouth would quirk into a frown, or his nose would scrunch up and his eyebrows would twitch. It must be some kind of disorder. He felt sort of bad now, he knew what it was like to grow up with something that made you different. He cleared his throat to change the subject, but Toby was already speaking again.  
"So where are we going anyways?" he inquired, staring out the window with his head resting against the glass.  
"I'm not sure. Anywhere really, we just need to keep moving," Tim reached towards the glove compartment, fumbling around for his carton of cigarettes before lighting one and placing it between his lips. He rolled down the window and puffed the gray smoke out into the cold air.  
"Those things will kill you y'know," Toby stated informatively. Tim just grunted in response. "Are you trying to escape Him? Is that why you just live on the run?" he asked. Tim drew in a long puff of his cigarette. Good grief this kid could never stay on one subject. "It won't work. He follows you everywhere." Toby said with quiet resignation, like he had told himself the same thing many times before.  
"Yeah well I was doing just fine for a whole year until I bumped into you," Tim muttered. Toby grew silent for a few moments before piping up again.  
"What did you do to make the Operator want you dead?" he asked sheepishly. Tim had wondered that since the beginning. Why would that horrible creature target a bunch of college kids from Alabama? The painful reality was there probably wasn't a real reason. They were just unlucky, or maybe it was fate, or destiny, or some bullshit like that. All he knew was that the Operator brought death and chaos and it fed off of misery and anger.  
"I used to be under it's control too. I would black out and it was like... someone else was taking control of my body. I never remembered anything, I would just wake up with the consequences. I tried to stand up to it, before I" 'before I killed Alex and Brian and abandoned Jessica to run like a coward' the bitter voice in his head hissed. "Before I left." he finished quietly, his mind drifting while he relived the harsh memories. It seemed so long ago yet still fresh in his mind. Toby regarded him with mild fascination when he mentioned his encounter with the Operator, then cast his eyes downwards again, tapping his shoe on the floorboard.  
"I hate it," he exhaled, "I hate not remembering and just waking up, having to realize all the horrible things it made me do." Tim's heart clenched in sympathy at the pitiful sound in the teenager's voice. Toby closed his eyes and curled up slightly, angling away from Tim so that he was facing out the window, and the two continued the drive in silence.

**********************************

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you guys for reading~ chapters will hopefully get longer soon I promise!


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry again for poor grammar and crappy writing! Also I'm still figuring out how to use A03, (it's very confusing lol) so I apologize for the fact that every chapter is wonky and looks weird. I'm working on it!

The "Quik Stop" was the only gas station for several miles, and Tim was growing tired of the endless mountain roads flanked by pine trees. He'd kill for a giant red bull and some smokes, and it'd be good for Tobias to stretch his legs. When the kid wasn't sleeping he was practically vibrating in his seat. They parked in the small parking lot, which was a blanket of fresh snow bathed by the flickering neon lights of the gas station sign.  
"Alright, just walk around and stretch your legs but DO NOT go where I cant see you and don't run. I will chase you down," Tim said, pointing a finger at the teenager. Toby snorted.  
"Please, with your early onset lung cancer I could outrun you easily," he replied, earning himself a dead pan glare from Tim. Toby followed Tim as he stepped out of the truck and wrapped his coat around himself, and Tim made his way towards the front door. It was nearly two o clock in the morning, so when he opened the door he was only greeted by a tired looking young adult at the counter who was half asleep. He walked up and down the aisles, grabbing a few snacks and bottles of water (plus his giant energy drink), and stopped in the candy aisle. He hesitated before grabbing a pack of red licorice and making his way to the front counter. While the cashier was quietly ringing up his items his gaze drifted to the tv hanging above her head, which was displaying the local news station. The volume was low, but he saw all he needed to from the words and images. On the small fuzzy screen was a picture of a happy family, with a husband, wife, and a son and daughter. The daughter was pretty with blonde hair and a nice smile, and her arm was wrapped around the shoulders of a young boy with dark hair and familiar gloomy eyes. The headline read:  
The search for Tobias Erin Rogers, a teenage boy who murdered his father and set his neighborhood ablaze a year ago in northern Colorado, still continues. Any information available about the whereabouts of Tobias should be reported to the local authorities immediately, as he is also the prime suspect in the unsolved murders of a few teenagers in the few weeks after his father's homicide. Tim gripped the grocery bags tighter in his fists as the eyes of the boy on the tv bored into his very soul, and he glanced outside the window to see Toby leaning against the hood of his truck.  
*******************************

Toby munched contentedly on his licorice, while Tim's thumb anxiously stroked the steering wheel and his eyes kept flicking to his rear view mirror. The sky was still dark, and he hadn't seen another car for miles, yet his nerves were jittery. In the corner of his eye he could see Toby fiddling with the radio, stopping on a station that was blasting heavy metal. His mind was still racing with the information he had seen on the news at the gas station. Of course he had an idea of what kind of troubles he would face taking in a dangerous kid with memory loss who was being controlled by the same faceless demon he was on the run from, but patricide and child murder was not on that list. He wanted desperately to find more information, but his old phone could never get service out here, and he didn't want to be suspicious and just go up and ask somebody. He tried to reason with himself. Maybe Toby had been forced to do it by the Operator, or maybe it was self defense? Those were the excuses Tim used whenever he was wracked with guilt about Brian and Alex, although it rarely made him feel better. He was tempted to ask Toby, but something told him that wasn't wise. He barely knew him, and although Toby had been fairly cooperative and behaved, he was still distrustful and closed off.  
Suddenly, red and blue lights flashed in his rear view mirror and the chirp of a police car siren startled him from his thoughts. Shit shit, fuck! Toby's head swiveled frantically, his hand already flying to the seatbelt, but Tim stopped him.  
"It's alright, put your mask on and pull your hood up, I've got this," Tim advised, pulling his truck to the side of the road and stopping. Toby hesitated but did as he was told, and Tim silently rolled down his window as the police officer approached. A light shone in his eyes, momentarily disorienting him. He could barely see the officer's face in the darkness, especially with a light in his face, but the man's voice was gruff.  
"You realize you were going over the speed limit?" he began, resting a hand on the roof of Tim's car and finally lowering his flashlight so that Tim could meet his gaze. Crap, he must have not been paying attention while he was brooding and missed a speed limit sign. He didn't think to look for one this far in the wilderness.  
"No sir, sorry," he mumbled. the officer paused a few beats, leaning down slightly to eye Toby, who had his arms folded tightly across his chest. The boy was fighting desperately to hide his tics, but he twitched and flinched nervously.  
"You aren't from around here are you?" the officer began again, raising an eyebrow at Tim. He swallowed hard.  
"Uh, no sir. I'm- we're visiting... from down south," he explained. The officer nodded thoughtfully.  
"Knew it, the accent gave it away. Where are you headed?" he asked. Tim was growing more and more impatient, and Toby's discomfort was almost palpable. They both practically reeked with suspicion, he could only hope to just get away with a ticket, despite being broke.  
"We're just trying to find a place to stay, I'm not so great at driving in the snow and uh... we're both exhausted," Tim tried his best to sound friendly and calm. The officer gave Tim a steady look, but he must have been in a wonderful mood, because he patted the roof of Tim's truck and smiled instead.  
"I'll tell you what, I'll let it slide this time. Why don't you follow behind me and I'll lead you into town? It's only twenty minutes away, and I needed to head to the station anyways. There's plenty of places to stay there, and I'd hate for you to get lost in the dark out here," he continued, directing his attention to Toby, "Wouldn't want ya to run into any bears!" he joked. Toby offered no reaction, instead glaring at him, and Tim cleared his throat abruptly.  
"That'd be great, thank you. I appreciate it," he said with a forced smile of gratitude.  
*************************

Snow had begun to lightly fall by the time they reached the town, and Tim watched the officer wave at him as they parted ways in their vehicles. This town was larger than the other one, but still had the same quaint and cozy style. The only lights he could see that were open this early in the morning were the Diner and some small office buildings. They drove around for a while, looking for a hotel or a rest stop.  
"Why are we stopping? I thought you just said that to get the cop to leave," Toby inquired, peering out the window with his forehead pressed to the glass.  
"It's almost three in the morning, I'm fucking tired and we need to wait out the oncoming snow. Unless you want to drive?" he challenged. Toby frowned, but didn't argue any further. After several minutes of driving around they were able to find a small bed and breakfast, and the lady at the front desk gave them the last room available. This bedroom only had one bed, so Tim decided he'd let the kid sleep there and he'd take the floor. He winced almost instinctively at the thought, absentmindedly rubbing his bad leg. It was extra sore from all the driving, so he massaged the muscle and did his best to stretch. It had never healed correctly after what Alex did. The bone had shattered, but in his... dissociative state it had taken him a while to come to and realize what had happened, and at that point he had been afraid to go to the hospital for a few days afterwards. When he finally did get it looked at, it was very hard trying to explain how a block of cement had "fallen" on his leg. Speaking of hospitals, he probably needed to renew his prescription sometime soon. He rummaged through his duffel bag to find the orange bottle, noticing Toby watching him from where he stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.  
"How'd your leg get fucked up?" he asked bluntly, hands in the pocket of his jacket. Tim's brows furrowed.  
"Uh, I broke it. Never healed right," he replied. Toby looked like he was making a mental note of that, nodding thoughtfully to himself.  
"What did it feel like?" he asked, a little too eagerly. Tim glared at him, choosing to instead return to searching for his medication. Toby cleared his throat after a few moments."Uh, you can take the bed if you'd like. Since your leg is bothering you," he offered quietly, shuffling one foot on the floor.  
"No that's alright kid, you need it more than I do," Tim said, brushing him away with a wave of his hand. Toby flopped down into the reclining chair in the corner, kicking his legs up onto the foot rest and nestling down.  
"Nah, I can sleep anywhere. Just take the bed, gimpy." Toby said, the corner of his mouth twitching into a smirk. Tim rolled his eyes, but was secretly grateful to be able to get a good night's rest. This bed was much more comfortable looking than the last motel they had stayed at. He turned slightly away from Toby, swallowing his medication. He had done it so many times, he rarely needed water to help it go down. Tim cast one look at Toby, who appeared to be already sleeping peacefully in the reclining chair, and switched off the lights before clambering into bed.  
******************************

Toby was clever, so he waited almost half an hour after Tim fell asleep before he opened his eyes and sat up. Tim was snoring loudly, the blankets rising and falling slowly with every deep breath he took. He hoped he was a heavy sleeper. Toby slid carefully out of the chair, tiptoeing to the bathroom and just barely shutting the door so that it didn't make a sound. He had thought about sneaking out through the door or the window just by the bed, but he feared that would wake Tim up and blow his cover. Just as he had hoped, there was a small window above the shower he could squeeze himself through. With much practiced stealthiness he slid open the narrow window and hoisted himself up, wriggling himself through head first. It was only a four foot drop to the snowy bushes below, so he ducked and rolled, crashing into the leaves with a loud sound. He grimaced, pulling on his mouth guard and goggles and scrambling to his feet to start jogging away. He obviously couldn't go wandering through the streets, so he veered off from the main square and towards the treeline that guarded the outskirts of the town. As he wandered further into the woods, he grew more comfortable at the familiar surroundings. This was what he knew. Towering pine trees, gnarled branches and thick undergrowth, the crunching of snow and wet leaves under his shoes.  
He took a deep breath and stopped when he realized he had left his hatchets behind. He wasn't sure where Tim had hid them, and he weighed the chances of getting caught if he tried to go back for them. The chances were high. He felt a twinge of guilt for deciding to leave them behind. They were the only real possessions he had, and the only way to defend himself. He would find something else, right now he just had to get away. He had played along, complying with the older man, but he knew in his gut it was best to get away. Even though he had fed him... taken care of him... given him a soft, warm place to sleep. Even though he treated him like he was....normal. Toby shook his head to dispel the thought, his body twitching aggressively. He wasn't normal, he never would be. Tim was probably playing with him, using him, and then when he was done he would throw Toby back out into the cold. Or worse, he thought with a shiver not brought on by the late winter chill, he'd be thrown into a padded cell.  
He realized he had never re-wrapped his arms and hands, but he began to bite on his knuckles anxiously through his leather gloves, his free hand digging into the flesh of his arm. Then, it began again. The growing paranoia, the shadows creeping from the corners of his vision. He would turn his head but they were faster, he could never quite get a good look at them. The quiet in his head grew and grew until it was nearly deafened by the steady sound of static. He fell to his knees, hugging his arms around himself and glancing around frantically. Even when he was by himself he was never alone, he wondered if he had always been this crazy. Sometimes he wished he could remember his past, perhaps to comfort himself that there isn't something wrong with him, but anytime he tried he was blocked out. By it. Now, as he rocked back and forth in the cold snow, he could see it just barely. It's ghostly white face seemed almost to leer at him from the trees. It's long black arms stretched towards him. Were the tree branches reaching for him too? In his panic he couldn't tell, all he could do was begin to cry.

*****************************

Tim heard a ruckus of noise from the bathroom and jolted awake, groggily scrambling out of bed to reach for the pocket knife he had in his bag. He tiptoed quietly, throwing open the door and flicking on the lights with the knife held out in front of him. Toby, the source of the noise, flinched and slipped in the shower with a loud thud. He was about to apologize for startling him before he noticed the cold air blowing through the open window above the shower, the one Toby must have just been trying to climb out of. He growled in frustration and grabbed Toby by the collar of his jacket. The boy didn't struggle and allowed himself to be hoisted onto his feet and out of the shower, but Tim's grip only tightened.  
"What were you doing?" he exclaimed, half asleep but seething nonetheless. Toby frowned, attempting to twist away from Tim's grasp.  
"I.... I snuck out. But I came back! I just needed some fresh air," he explained. Tim thought he was lying at first, but he noticed melted snow on the boy's clothes. He hesitated before releasing him.  
"Next time, wake me up and tell me before you decide to go for a fucking early morning jaunt," he ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "We can't let anyone see you." he said, thinking once again of the news report he saw earlier. Should he tell Toby? A part of him thought not. He didn't want to further agitate an already emotionally unstable person. He would tell him eventually, if the kid could prove he was trustworthy. He peered into Toby's face, he was paler than before, his eyes dark and flicking around in his head nervously. He looked like he'd seen a ghost.  
"I'm going to go back to sleep, and as soon as the sun rises I'm heading into town," Tim continued speaking as Toby followed him out of the bathroom, "Do NOT go anywhere. You hear me?" He demanded, staring the teenager down. Toby nodded sheepishly and curled up in the arm chair again. Tim sighed and flopped back into bed. He needed to run a few errands and stretch his legs in town once everything opened, but he was worried about what kind of trouble Toby could get up to while he was away. Now I know how my parents must have felt. Except I wasn't wanted for murder, Tim thought with a thin veil of humor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm still new to AO3, but already I've had so much fun writing mediocre fanfiction on here. Thanks for all the kudos and comments! They make the writing extra worth while~


	5. Chapter Five

Spring was clearly on the way, much to Tim's immense relief. It was almost March after all, and although the air was still cold and snow still crunched underneath his boots he could tell the worst of winter was almost over from the way the warm sun beat down on him. He could just barely see little green sprigs of grass poking out from the cracks in the sidewalk and from the shallow snow. The town was bustling today, and he had to avoid bumping into several middle aged ladies with armfuls of shopping bags. He was grateful that northerners seemed to be less conversational than folks from Alabama; if he had been back home he would have been stopped a dozen times already to have pointless small talk. He kept his head down, hands in his pocket as he walked. Sometimes he felt very out of place out in public like this. It felt strange to pretend everything was normal, to walk about with other people and worry about mundane tasks like running errands. On the outside Tim looked normal enough, but if anyone were to look deeper they would be disturbed. So he lived life on the outside looking in, wearing his facade when necessary. He had to admit part of why he had enjoyed Toby's company a small bit was because he didn't have to pretend, he could be himself. As pathetic as that was.  
He had already picked up his prescription from the pharmacy, (it was a miracle he could still stay in touch with his doctor and pick up his meds no matter where he went) and so he made his way to the local library. The older woman at the front desk looked up when Tim entered and stomped the snow off his boots. He approached her, clearing his throat.  
"What can I do for you sir?" she asked in a low, hoarse tone that suggested she rarely raised her voice above a whisper.  
"Do you have newspaper articles archived here?" he asked quietly. She nodded curtly and stood without a word, beckoning him to follow her. She led him through tall bookshelves to the very back of the building, where they descended a small flight of stairs to the dimly lit basement. Old boxes and dusty books were spilling out from narrow bookshelves, and a row of computers sat in the middle of the cold, dark room.  
"Pick a computer, It will automatically pull up our archive system. You can use keywords, Publications, and dates to find what you're looking for," she peered at him from behind her spectacles before pursing her lips and turning away to ascend the stairs. Tim shrugged, pulling out one of the chairs and logging onto the computer. He quickly typed in the only keyword he needed, Tobias Erin Rogers, and prayed he would find more answers than questions. Only a few popped up, so he clicked on the oldest article from a year ago dated March second. It read:

Late Saturday evening in Denver, Colorado, 17 year old Tobias Erin Rogers brutally murdered his father and set his neighborhood ablaze before fleeing the scene as law enforcement arrived. According to the main witness and mother of the boy, Connie Rogers, she had come downstairs to the gruesome sight of him standing over her husband Frank's mutilated corpse holding a kitchen knife. A few weeks prior to the incident Connie Roger's eldest Lyra Rogers was in a car accident with her younger brother Tobias, but sadly Lyra passed away shortly after they arrived at the hospital. In a statement made by Mrs. Rogers she says, "Toby and Lyra were extremely close, so when she died he just fell apart. It had such a negative impact on his already fragile mind, I think that's what drove him to snap." As of now, Tobias Rogers has been assumed dead, but no body has been found. Connie Rogers has refused to comment any further. 

The next few articles were just short ones with more about Toby and asking for any information to be reported to police. The other one that caught his eye was one that was dated about a month after Toby murdered his dad. Three teenagers were murdered in the woods near an abandoned building, the only piece of evidence being a bloody hatchet and a strange symbol sprayed onto the wall of the building. Apparently the hatchet had belonged to Toby's dad, and so the investigation was opened up again with him as the main suspect. It didn't take Tim long to recognize the symbol, a familiar circle with an angry "X" slashed through it's center. That symbol was etched into the walls of his mind, it was almost always there when he closed his eyes. He had seen it scribbled on papers, hidden in the strange videos he never remembered uploading, it was everywhere The Operator went. Tim leaned back in his chair, sighing heavily into his hands. Toby was another puppet used by the Operator to bring death and chaos, just like Alex. Would his life end the same way Alex's had? Tim stood abruptly. Suddenly despite the cold room he felt hot and uncomfortable, like the walls were closing in on him. He stumbled up the stairs and out of the library, not bothering to thank the librarian on his way out. Once outside he slipped into an alley, ignoring the startled and puzzled stares of other people, and slumped against the wall. He took in gulping breaths of cold air, he could feel himself drifting, slipping away. He tried grounding himself, running his hands through his hair, fiddling with his coat zipper, grabbing fistfuls of freezing cold snow.  
He imagined how pathetic he looked, on the verge of a panic attack sitting in the snow in an alley. He pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed in relief once he felt like he had come back to himself. He hadn't had an episode like that in a while. Having Tobias around was making it much more difficult to avoid thinking about his past. If Toby snapped again, would Tim have to kill him? No. He wouldn't do that again. Sometimes he could still remember the feeling of Alex's blood on his hands, and he would start to tremble. It was self defense, he always told himself. It never made him feel better. He checked his wristwatch, it was noon. He was beginning to grow hungry, and he figured Toby would probably be ready for lunch as well. The inviting sign of the little Diner across the street caught his eye. It would be good to eat something other than gas station snacks and hotel food. He got to his feet, dusting the snow off his jeans and collecting himself.  


*******************************************

Toby's eyes had lit up like headlights when he saw the to go boxes of food Tim had brought to the room, and had tentatively taken his meal to go sit and eat in the corner. Tim was just grateful that the hotel room wasn't in disarray and the kid had stayed put all day. He sat at the small desk and picked at his food while examining the map of Colorado he had picked up from the diner. They were, coincidentally, only a day and half's drive away from Denver. That's where they would head next, he decided. He felt slightly guilty for taking Toby there, even if the kid didn't remember anything that happened, but he felt it was necessary to learn more. Head to the scene of where it all began. He stuffed the map into his bag and grabbed his medication, noticing Toby eyeing him from where he sat.  
"What are those for?" he piped up curiously. Tim swallowed and swiveled in his chair to face him.  
"Uh... It's medication. For a psychological condition I have." he replied. He noticed Toby's intent expression and rolled his eyes, continuing. "It also helps me with... The Sickness." Toby stared blankly, even more confused. "Y'know, the memory loss, the alternate personalities... aggression, hallucinations? The Operator?" Tim had suffered with his mental state his whole life, but as it turned out the Operator had a serious affect on the psyche of anyone it latched onto. Unfortunately Tim had passed those same symptoms onto his friends as well.  
"Ah," was all Toby said, looking a little forlorn. "I suppose I always thought I was just crazy." Tim shook his head.  
"It prays on weak minds, and makes them feel crazy. Drives them insane. But you're not crazy kid. It's just... sort of like a parasite." he sighed. Toby nodded.  
"A sickness." He looked like he had more to say, but decided against it.  
"It doesn't always work though," Tim continued with a shrug, "but It's made me better." He stood up and collected their trash, shoving the last few of his belongings back into his bag. Toby's expression grew nervous as he watched Tim pack up and tidy the room. "Alright kid. Back onto the road." Toby reluctantly got to his feet.  
"W-why? Can't we stay here for a little while longer?" his voice had a childish pout to it, "I hate being in the car." Tim groaned internally.  


They had been driving the rest of the day, Tim didn't want to stop until the morning, but Toby was growing more and more restless. He kept fidgeting and clearing his throat, the nervous energy was rolling off of him. Begrudgingly, Tim decided he would pull over and let the kid stretch his legs. He clearly was terrified of car rides, and in the day and a half Tim had known him all he's done was force him to sit in a car for hours on end. Toby was grateful for the pit stop, wandering around the clearing they had parked in by the side of the road. The moon was full and gave them just enough light to see in the darkness. It was eerily beautiful, the black shadowy trees and the wide expanse of stars above them. Tim leaned against his truck, feeling the heat of the purring engine roll up his back, and took a deep breath. It had been a while since he'd allowed himself to relax like this. He watched as Toby idly inspected the clearing, brushing his fingers against the tree trunks and tilting his head back to look at the sky. He seemed like he was a part of the forest, like it was his second home. Tim could sense how comfortable Toby was outdoors compared to him. He, on the other hand, had practically developed a phobia of forests since Rosswood Park. It was almost funny what mundane things brought him fear and panic now. In his nightmares he wore a porcelain face and ran through dark forests, endlessly chasing tapes and cameras and faceless creatures. Once, a few months after he left Alabama, he saw a dad recording his family with a crappy old camcorder. It was innocent, a happy father using an old camera to capture memories of his family having fun, but Tim almost went into a hyperventilating panic attack. All at the sight of a flashing red light on a handheld camera.  
He didn't realize Toby had come to join him, placing some distance between him and Tim but still standing by the truck with his hands shoved into the pockets of his jeans. His shoulder jerked for the seemingly hundredth time that day. It had taken Tim quite a surprising amount of time to realize the exact disorder Toby probably had, which he suspected was Tourette's, but he was too afraid to ask. By now he had almost grown used to the boy's constant movement anyways. Toby was the first to break the silence.  
"Where are you taking me?"  
"We're headed to Denver." Tim replied, clearing his throat. Toby's eyes narrowed suspiciously, his demeanor growing tense and closed off once more.  
"Yeah but why? What are you going to do with me?" Tim craned his head to look Toby in the eyes, surprised by the distrustful anger he saw in them. "I could've killed you. I still could. You don't know anything about me, why would you trust me and feed me and give me a place to stay? You're planning something," Toby shivered, "I'm not stupid." Tim felt offended at first, but reminded himself this kid probably hasn't seen an ounce of kindness in a long time. He turned abruptly so that he was face to face with Toby, who straightened up as if he were expecting some sort of conflict.  
"Because....Because you're a lot like me when I was younger. You're a lot like me now. You've been through what I've been through and If I'm being honest, it's nice to not feel alone in that. But I just want to help you kid," Toby's fists clenched. "I just want to help you. There's no catch or secret plan, we're just gonna figure it out along the way." He wanted to reach out and clasp Toby's shoulder but stopped himself.  
"So you're not taking me to a loony bin?" Toby asked hesitantly. Tim's gut wrenched in sympathy for the boy. His parents had done the same to him when he was younger. They thought they were helping of course, and maybe it did help, but he remembered the cold lonely nights in dark gray rooms vividly. They didn't believe him about the tall faceless creature. He didn't either really, and look how well that turned out. He may not remember it, but maybe Toby had experienced that too. Who knows how long he had been tormented and followed by the Operator. Tim offered him a weak smile, for the first time in a long while not forcing it.  
"No Toby. I promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trying to figure out how to format these chapters makes me feel like a coder/hacker.... who does a horrible job at coding and hacking. XD I will figure out how to format my chapters to look prettier soon, sorry!!! I also apologize for the shorter chapter, my work has been kicking my butt. Thanks again for all the super lovely comments and kudos!! Everyone stay safe and enjoy the rest of your week~


	6. Chapter Six

Fuck this. They were stuck on the side of the road at ten o clock at night in the cold, completely out of gas. There was a small suburban town just twenty minutes away, and downtown Denver city was an extra fifteen minutes past that. He was beginning to shiver slightly, the evenings were much colder than during the day, and he tried not to allow his teeth to chatter. Hugging himself, he shut the fuel cap and made his way to the other side of the truck where Toby was standing, his eyes flicking up and down the pitch black deserted road. Toby never seemed to shiver or complain about the cold, but maybe he was just used to it. The boy's head swiveled to face Tim when he noticed him grumbling under his breath.

"Empty. I'll need to walk into town to get some gas." he checked his old phone again, but still no service. Toby's brows furrowed.

"You'll freeze to death before you get to town. And what if you run into any dangerous weirdos?" he pointed out. Tim decided not to mention the fact that he was already in the company of one dangerous weirdo, and instead arched a brow at him.

"What else do you suggest? We can't sleep in the car, it would be too cold, and I doubt we could push it more than a few yards," He shook his head in frustration.

"I can try and find some firewood," Toby suggested, gesturing to the inky black forest behind them. "Keep us warm while we think." Tim nodded thoughtfully.

"Fine, but I'm coming with you." Toby shrugged and began to trudge down the snow bank towards the treeline, slowly disappearing into the trees. With an anxious gulp, Tim followed.

It felt like the darkness was chasing him, swallowing him whole. He tried his best to stay composed, cupping a hand around the flame of his bic lighter to give him a small bit of light and comfort. It didn't do much to soothe his nerves. Tim avoided looking around despite his nervousness, and instead focused on the almost invisible shape of Toby walking a little ways in front of him in the darkness. Toby was as level headed as he could be, hands in his pockets as he idly wandered further into the woods. For a second Tim wondered if he had been lured out here for a more sinister reason, his mind running back to the tone of distrust in Toby's voice from yesterday. He patted his pocket to feel for his pocket knife and nodded in satisfaction when he found it was still there. Finally Toby bent down and gathered some large sticks, tucking them under one arm. Tim stumbled after him, stepping high to trudge through the snow. Toby stopped abruptly, and Tim nearly collided into his back.

"What?" Tim growled.

"Do you see that shape over there?" Tim had to squint to follow where Toby was pointing, but he saw nothing. He did notice however, that the ground underneath the layers of snow sounded gravelly. There was a stretch of land before them leading to where Toby was pointing that was lined with trees, almost making a path. A road?

"Let's check it out," Toby said, not bothering to check if Tim had any objections. The closer they got the more Tim did begin to notice a shape, a hulking black one. Once they were right upon it, he realized it was a house. There was no light coming from inside, but he followed Toby onto the porch and began to inspect the windows. It was a log cabin, and had obviously been abandoned for a while. A few of the windows were boarded up but some had holes in the exposed panes of glass, and he could look inside at the empty blackness from within. He took a few steps back and cocked his head to look at the second floor window, which was also broken. Toby turned the doorknob and opened the door with a jarring creak, slightly startling Tim.

"Hey hey, what are you doing?" Tim reprimanded. Toby jerked his thumb at the doorway.

"It's obviously abandoned, what's the harm in checking it out?" he responded, a curious lilt to his voice.

"Checking out abandoned buildings never ends well," Tim grumbled, reluctantly following his eager companion inside. It was even darker without the moon to filter through the boarded up windows inside, so Toby had to fall back to walk besides Tim, using the small flickering flame of his lighter as a light source. The wind howled outside, the house a symphony of strange creaking and rumbling noises. They were in a living room of sorts, the only thing occupying the space some wooden pallets and an old love-seat that had a sheet thrown over it. On the back wall was a brick fireplace, the soot covered mouth whistling anytime wind blew through the chimney above.

"Ah!" Toby chirped triumphantly, dropping to his knees in front of it and carefully arranging the kindling he had collected inside. The kid was pretty clever, Tim thought, bending down to scoop up some old newspaper clippings from the floor and throwing them into the fireplace. He held his lighter to the bundle of kindling and waited for the flame to catch. Warm golden light spread quickly, illuminating most of the main area of the house. Sighing contentedly, Tim held his hands up to the fire and felt the warmth melt his frozen bones. Toby sat back a little, leaning against the old love seat and watching the fire.

"Aren't you going to take off your coat? The fire will warm you up pretty fast," Tim asked, already shrugging off his heavy tan coat. With a grimace he noticed a hole that had begun to fray at the elbow of his coat. Shame, it was his favorite jacket, although it was pretty old. Toby reluctantly complied, removing his coat so that he was only wearing his black undershirt.

"Heat doesn't really bother me. Neither does the cold," he declared nonchalantly, crossing his arms and staring intently into the flames. They sat in silence for a few moments, the only sounds the crackling of the fire, the occasional jerk of Toby's arms, and the howling wind.

"I take it you have lots of experience taking shelter in old places like this," Tim began, desperate to fill the all too loud silence. Toby merely shrugged, eyes half lidded as the flames chased shadows across his solemn face.

"When you're on your own you have to take what you can get. Bridges, old buildings, bushes," his voice trailed off and he hugged himself tighter. Tim grimaced apologetically.

"I promise once we get some gas tomorrow we'll find another hotel in Denver." Toby huffed slightly, a hint of laughter.

"Are you kidding?" Toby gestured to the dark room, "This place is five star quality. Definitely the best place I've ever stayed at," he said sarcastically. Tim scoffed and smirked slightly, Toby's dry sense of humor lifting his mood. His mind wandered as he watched flickers of light dance across the room, casting eerie shadows. When he was younger, fire used to comfort him. It made him think of warmth, and security, and home. Then he had watched Alex strike a match and burn his home down, and now it reminded him of fear, and the sensation of choking on smoke. He peered closely at Toby, who was almost in a trance as he watched the fireplace.

"So... Do you really not remember anything about the last sixteen or so years of your life?" Tim puzzled, startling Toby out of his thoughts. Toby's eyes widened and glazed over, and for a moment Tim wondered if he would shut down and refuse to speak. To his surprise and relief, Toby swallowed hard before beginning in a low voice.

"Fire. The first thing I can really remember is fire. There was so much of it, just a wall of blinding flames. There were flashing lights too, colorful ones, but they seemed far away. And then He was there. Standing in the fire, calling to me. It... it reached for me, and pulled me away from the flames. Then I woke up in the woods, and I've been..." he trailed off again, licking his chapped lips, "Doing things. For It." he met Tim's eyes, holding his stare. "Every time I try to remember what happened before then, my brain goes fuzzy.... it's so loud, it's like-"

"Like a dead channel on the TV. Pure static," Tim cut him off, voice shaky. Toby nodded.

"What else do you remember?" Tim asked, but Toby had closed off. His eyes flicked around nervously before he folded up his jacket and placed it under his head, curling up on the floor.

"Oookay, nevermind. Good talk," Tim mumbled under his breath, tucking his coat under his head and rolling over to face away from Toby, eyes slowly drifting close.

***************************

Toby woke up before Tim did, so he quietly stood up and began to explore the house. Sunlight was leaking through the spaces in the boarded up windows, giving him just enough light to see. Downstairs was the kitchen, a small dining room, the living room, and what he assumed was a laundry room. It was all in rather decent condition, save for the dust and cobwebs that drifted around. He stopped at the base of the short flight of stairs that led to the second floor, gingerly stepping on the first step and testing the weight limit. It didn't so much as creak when he put all of his weight on it, so he cautiously began to ascend the stairs. There was a loft that overlooked the living room, as well as two bedrooms and a bathroom. It was a small but comfortable house, probably used by someone as a getaway cabin for hunting and camping. He trotted back downstairs and was greeted by a grouchy looking Tim, who was limping around and grumbling under his breath about his "damned leg," or whatever.

"Alright, I'm going to walk to town and get some gas. Stay out of trouble?" Tim stuffed his wallet into his coat pocket and stepped outside, closing the door and leaving Toby alone in the quiet.

"Don't die Lumberjack," Toby snickered once he was gone, although he realized he did genuinely worry for his safety. If he wasn't back by this evening he would go look for him, make sure he didn't get eaten by vultures or something. Toby wandered to the back of the house, where the back door by the laundry room was boarded up. He snapped his fingers, if he had his hatchets he could easily break some of these boards away, but he'd have to settle for using brute force instead. He searched around until he found an old rusty crowbar and wedged it between one of the wooden boards nailed across the door way, clenching his jaw and pulling down until the board snapped in half.

He repeated this process with the other two boards before prying open the rusted lock and kicking the door open. Outside was a covered wraparound patio that overlooked a small body of water, like a man made pond. Eagerly Toby jogged down the slight slope, dodging fallen logs and large rocks, and skidded to a stop by the edge of the pond. It was beautiful, the sunlight dappling the dark water with gold, the tall firs and oak trees whispering in the slight breeze. The edges of the water were covered in a thin layer of ice, which was beginning to melt away like the rest of the snow. The air smelled sweet and damp, spring was so close.

Toby wondered wistfully about what it would be like to live in a place like this permanently. Not having to worry about getting caught or chased out by angry squatters. Being able to come out every morning to see this beautiful view. He rolled his eyes. That wasn’t something he would ever have, he thought bitterly. He wandered back into the house, pulling on his mask to avoid inhaling the decades old dust that floated around. It was eerily quite in the house, except for the occasional birdsong from outside, and Toby found himself growing restless. He had almost gotten used to having another person around, despite his familiarity with being on his own. Without Tim's presence Toby felt trapped and frightened, like the walls had eyes and were waiting for him to let his guard down. Maybe he should wait outside until Tim got back, however long that would be.

He decided to wait on the front porch, perching himself on an old crate he found. Although he had enjoyed the last few nights of comfortable hotel rooms and actual food, he hated how reliant he was becoming on this stranger he barely knew. He knew perfectly well how to steal and gather food and supplies, how to fight off people twice his size, how to find safe places to sleep in the wilderness. He couldn't let himself get soft, or worse, get attached to this guy. If... WHEN the Operator found him again and made him kill Tim, he would have to do it, no matter how much he sort of liked the guy. He breathed a shaky sigh and twitched. He would have to get away soon, go back to the way things were. Once he and Tim were back on the road, Toby would wait for them to reach Denver before escaping. That way Tim could hopefully be safe from any harm... and Toby could return back to his solitary life of working as a puppet. Far away from here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for such a short chapter, I've been super busy with work and school! On another note, my dilemma this week has consisted of me going, "Man, none of my favorite fanfics have updated! :(" to me then realizing, "Oh yeah, I have a fanfic to update." XD


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your comments on the last update! I've decided to keep writing both my stories, and just remove the creepypasta tag. On a more positive note regarding the Ticci-Toby situation, Wade did say that he may potentially reboot Toby as a new original story, so fingers crossed! I also sincerely apologize for such a long wait for only a short chapter, I've started a new job and it's super physically taxing. I think I've taken a four hour nap every day this week, haha! Hopefully start expecting more regular updates again!!

It was almost too good to be true. Tim reminded himself of this, trying to not get his hopes up. But it was practically perfect, a gift from the universe or some fluffy hippie shit like that. He had found the gas station in town and was purchasing a gallon of fuel for his truck when he began to strike up a conversation with the locals. One of them, an older gentleman, was surprised when Tim mentioned that he and his "younger brother" had taken shelter in an abandoned house overnight.  
"Ah! That's my property. Used to be my getaway cabin for fishing trips, but I haven't set foot there in several years. My old age has made it impossible to go fishing like I used to, so it's just sat there, empty," he had explained. When Tim reluctantly told him that he and his "brother" had been living on the road practically homeless, and apologized for trespassing on his property, he brushed him off with a wave of his hand.  
"No, no, not at all! I'm glad it provided you with a bit of warmth and safety. My name's George by the way," the older man followed Tim outside as they continued chatting.  
"Tim," he had introduced himself quietly.  
"Where are you from Tim?" George asked, his demeanor friendly. He swallowed.  
"Alabama." George studied Tim for a few moments, a thoughtful expression furrowing his face. They talked for what felt like hours, George asking almost interview like questions about Tim's personal life. His age, where he went to school, etc. By the end George stopped walking and faced Tim, who's arm was starting to grow tired from holding the heavy can of fuel for so long.  
"Son, how would you like a job?"

George had given Tim the job at the hardware store he owned on the spot, despite his injured leg, despite his medical history, despite the fact that they were total strangers. Tim would be earning enough money to rent a room in the nearby bed and breakfast for an extended time, or if he was lucky, rent a condo space. They were close enough to Denver that Tim could still do his research on his newly acquired roommate, without said roommate's knowledge. When he arrived back at the abandoned house with the can of fuel and the good news, he found Toby sitting on the porch with his back against the wall, arms crossed.  
"Oh no, you're alive," was the snarky greeting he received, but paid no mind to. He rolled his eyes and beckoned Toby to follow him.  
"Help me fuel the truck so we can get the hell out of here and get a warm hotel room." he barked. Toby slunk after him, shoulders slumped. The mid afternoon sun slowly began to warm them up as they worked, Toby peering curiously over Tim's shoulder as he refueled the truck. Tim had shed his jacket and reached to wipe a bead of sweat from his brow, noticing Toby breathing down his neck.  
"Your dad ever show you how to do this kinda stuff?" Tim asked, craning his neck to address Toby. He instantly regretted the question when he remembered the fact that Tobias had brutally murdered his father. He braced for confrontation, but instead Toby shrugged.  
"I'm not even sure I have a dad, I don't remember anything. I told you that," he mumbled, golden brown eyes darting away nervously. Tim nodded to himself, stepping to the side and offering the half empty fuel can to Toby.  
"Wanna try? You just pour it into the cap, careful not to spill-" The corner of Toby's lip twitched.  
"I'm pretty good with gasoline." He said with an almost amused undertone. Tim held up his hands and stepped back, watching as Toby poured the remaining bit of fuel into the truck. Growing up Tim's dad left him and his mom when Tim was only twelve, at the peak of his medical problems. He became just a bit too much for his mother to handle, and so he found himself bouncing back and fort between psyche hospitals and his own home. He had a rude awakening when he got older and went to college and realized how much life skills he would have to teach himself. Of course Toby clearly had some knowledge, seeing as how he's managed to survive on his own for this long, but he would need to be taught lots of important things if he ever wanted to be a functioning member of society. Was that even possible for Toby? Tim swallowed hard and took the empty gas can from Tobias, throwing it underneath his toolbox in the bed of the truck. Toby watched him intently, wiping his hands on his jeans.  
"What's in there?" he inquired, lifting an eyebrow.  
"Just tools and stuff," Tim fumbled in his pocket for his keys and slid into the drivers seat, exhaling in relief when the car started as he turned the key in the fob. Toby slid in on the passengers side, leaning back and resting his mud and snow covered boots on the dashboard.  
"No shoes on the dashboard," Tim swatted Toby's legs away and cranked up the heater, pulling back onto the main road and driving to where their new temporary home would be.

******************************

Toby sat on his bed, twitching and tapping his foot nervously. The room that had rented was a conjoined room, so that he and Tim could have their own private rooms. It was smaller, with just a bed, a small tv that looked like it had been pulled from the eighties, a dresser, and a bathroom. He could hear Tim moving about from the other side of the door that connected their rooms, opening and closing drawers and unpacking his things. According to him he would be starting a job in town, so they would be staying for longer. It would be perfect. The next day, while Tim was at work, he could just sneak out and never be seen again. The closer they had gotten to Denver, and the farther away from IT they got, Toby could feel the shadows digging deeper into his brain. IT was mad at him. He was disobeying, and that made him worthless. There was nothing he could do to protect himself from the Operator, he can either die or succumb to it's control again. The room was quiet, but in the very back of his head he could already hear the distant angry static. He curled up on himself, bringing his knees to his chest and listening to the sound of his shallow breathing. When Tim rapped his knuckles against the privacy door Toby practically leaped out of his skin. He swallowed hard, his voice still raspy from the lack of use for so long.  
"What?" he said, a little too snappily. The door opened just a crack, and Tim peeked tentatively from the other side.  
"Just making sure you're still okay. I'm going to bed, just uh.." he shrugged, "knock if you need anything." Toby just stared at him, giving a small, curt nod. Tim smiled, his mouth a thin line, and softly shut the door behind him. Toby chewed the inside of his cheek anxiously before burrowing underneath the soft blankets, bringing them up to cover his head so he was enveloped in the darkness. He would allow himself to sleep, save up his energy for tomorrow. He tried to focus on the sound of his own breathing, but the little voices were scratching at the walls of his mind. Evil, whispering hisses that tried to weasel their way through the static. His mind was never quiet, it was always misery. He could feel it, it was getting closer and closer. He would need to leave tomorrow, stop prolonging the inevitable. Tomorrow, he would run, and everything would go back to the way it was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the short and confusing chapter, I'm way too tired to edit it and add more. :( Next chapter should be more flavorful!


	8. Chapter Eight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M ALIVE!! So sorry for the long hiatus, my mental health has been kinda sucky lately. Plus, the Toby drama continues. I never thought a cringey dead fandom would have this much drama in 2020! But don't worry, I am going to continue to use Toby in fanfics until further notice. I apologize for a choppy and kind of lame chapter this week, I've been struggling with writing. I hope everyone is staying safe and is having a lovely week~ <3

He was stumbling through the forests of Rosswood, gnarled branches snagged at his coat and his heavy breath came out in plumes of fog. It was dark, but he he knew the way. There were no sounds of wildlife, just the thudding of boots on the forest floor and a distant static that sounded like it was growing closer. He continued to run blindly, chasing familiar voices, desperately reaching for any kind of help. With a gasp Tim shot up in bed, hand over his chest and clutching at his shirt, which was drenched in sweat despite the cold. The room was dark, and with a groan he realized the clock on the nightstand read 4:30 am. He needed to wake up anyways if he wanted to be at work on time. He sighed inwardly, it'd been a long time since he had to actually arrive at a job on time. Needed to make a good first impression. He silently gathered some clothes for the day and slipped into the bathroom, hoping a cold shower would wake him up and wash off his dream induced cold sweat. Once he had pulled on his heavy work boots and grabbed his keys and wallet, he almost knocked on Toby's door to say goodbye. His knuckles hovered above the door for a few seconds before he decided against it, and instead slipped a note under the door frame. The dim hotel hallways made his stomach do somersaults, and he was relieved to throw open the glass lobby doors and step into the chilly early morning air. His old beat up truck was waiting for him like a loyal dog, Tim fumbled for his keys with shivering hands to unlock the driver's side door. He glanced downwards and noticed a disturbance in the snow around his truck, concentrated by the bed. They were combat boots, smaller than his, and they led back to the hotel. He hesitated, brows furrowed, before he shrugged and slipped behind the wheel.

*************************

Toby watched from the window as Tim's truck pulled away, dusting the snow off his coat and dumping his loot onto his bed. He had figured all his stuff was thrown into that tool box, he just didn't really think Tim would leave it unlocked like that. Good thing the guy seemed to be a little too trusting. The corner of his mouth twitched as he inspected both his hatchets, still in their sheathes. With a sigh of resignation he slipped both of them onto his belt, feeling a bit of comfort at the familiar weight at his hips. His gaze swept over the room once more to be safe, but he knew he wasn't forgetting anything. All he owned were the clothes on his back and his two hatchets. He noticed a bright yellow sticky note on the floor by the door that separated his room and Tim's, and knelt down curiously to inspect it.

Went to work. Will pick up dinner on the way home. ~Tim.

It was a note, scribbled in Tim's messy handwriting. Toby blew through his nostrils and crumpled up the note, idly stuffing it into his pocket without much thought. He thought about climbing out the window again like he had done this morning, but by now the sun was out and he would most likely get caught. He pulled up his hood and his mouth guard, letting the goggles hang just around his neck. It was nerve wracking to walk down the hotel hallways like a normal person, almost more terrifying to him than being alone in the woods at night. At least then he wouldn't have to duck his head at every passing person. He had to stop himself from breaking into a run when he saw the front doors in the lobby. Wincing at the harsh sunlight outside, Toby began to speed walk in the direction that he and Tim drove into town, hoping to back track his way into the woods. It didn't really matter if he knew where he was going, he just had to get away from all the people and wait for his master to find him. It would find him anywhere he went.

************************************

The work day had flown by faster than Tim expected, but by the end he was still exhausted and starving. George had mostly spent the day showing him the ropes, and had him do a lot of heavy lifting. He couldn't hide his slightly worsened limp as he walked outside, throwing on his coat. The days were growing longer, with Spring just around the corner, so the sun had only just started to set by the time he left work. It was still surprisingly busy outside, and for a moment Tim paused to idly watch folks pass by. It felt nice to feel normal. The last time he had a job he had been fired due to his sometimes week long disappearances. Hopefully his year long streak of being black out free would continue long enough for him to maintain this job. He strolled across the street to a local fast food joint to order some food for him and his teenage companion. Toby didn't seem to be very picky, and Tim knew from experience that teenage boys had ravenous appetites, so he got a large meal for them both.

Once he was back inside his truck with two bags of delicious warm food, he reached into his back pocket to find his phone. This town had far better service, but he had been too nervous to really check his phone or go onto social media. How pathetic was that? He had practically developed a phobia of technology. He blew out harshly, his breath disturbing the few strands of dark hair that fell over his face, and shoved his phone back into his pocket. He would try another day, for now he had to get back home and feed his pet serial killer.

***************************************

It should have found him by now. For nearly eight hours he had been wandering aimlessly through the woods, and not a single thing had happened. The sun made the rapidly melting snow on the ground glitter like crystals, revealing the new forest growth underneath. Toby had taken refuge in a sturdy oak tree, sprawled out on one of the thick branches with his back against the trunk. He let one of his legs hang over the side, swinging back and forth idly while his hands rested on his chest, twitching every now and then. Did he do something wrong? Was he going the wrong way? He had expected IT to fetch him already, but he couldn't hear the static or feel the invisible chains weighing his mind down. Instead he felt quite... peaceful. A little nervous and afraid, but he decided he would enjoy this moment of calm while it lasted. He wondered if Tim was looking for him, or if perhaps he was glad he didn't have to worry about him anymore. If that guy knew what was good for him, he'd leave well enough alone and forget all about Toby.

The sun was just beginning to set when Tobias caved in and decided to attempt to take a nap. Perhaps he would wake up several days later half away across the state with blood on his hatchets. He shivered, eyes wide. Best not to think about that. He usually tried not to. With a heavy sigh he closed his eyes and slumped lower, his head lolling to the side as he slowly fell asleep. It wasn't long before sleep overtook him and the nightmares began. Sometimes he couldn't remember them when he woke, which he was grateful for, but occasionally he would wake up in a cold sweat with faint snippets of terror. This nightmare was one he had experienced many times.

Everything is fuzzy, like he's looking through a foggy window and can only discern dark shapes and movement, but he can hear them clearly. Three shapes, two of them smaller than the third, and their voices are raised and emotional. The larger shape looms over them, his voice deep and booming and angry, crackling with static energy that distorted his words. Toby could sense the anger was directed at him, despite being unable to make out any full sentences. The smaller shapes were gentler, and quiet. They shook and shivered in silent fear, arms wrapped around Toby in comfort. They were female, their voices hushed and tender.

"It's alright Toby," one said. "We're okay." He didn't know why, but he wanted so badly to stand up and protect them. To defend them from the hulking shape they cowered from, but he was rooted to the spot. All he could do was listen to the soothing voices of the two women while he choked thickly on his own fear and confusion. He feared he wouldn't have woken up had it not been for the obnoxious shuffling noise that startled him out of his nightmare. Heart thumping in his chest he slid up into a sitting position, balancing himself carefully on the tree branch. It was completely dark now, but he was used to seeing in the dark. His eyes quickly adjusted, gaze searching the shadows beneath him as the noise grew closer. It sounded like something big blindly crashing through the undergrowth. Perhaps a bear? An elk? Neither was one Toby wanted to run into in a pitch black forest, so he remained on his perch, hands hovering above his hatchet on instinct.

"Tobias?" a familiar voice called out from the darkness, followed by a heavy thump and an exasperated "Fuck." He rolled his eyes.

***************************

Was this really worth it? Stumbling through the Colorado wilderness in the pitch black darkness in search of a teenager he's only known for a few days? The smarter thing he should have done when he realized Toby had run away was to just let him go, forget all about his strange new acquaintance and continue to do what he did best. Look out for himself. He had sat in that empty hotel room for almost a whole hour, tossing the idea around, but he couldn't do it. He'd let down too many people before. Besides, his life had no meaning now, so what did it matter if what he was doing was senseless and crazy? He was gonna go get that kid back. So here he was, calling for him while he tripped over thick roots and twisting undergrowth. Something shifted from above him, a tree branch groaning with the weight of something heavy, followed by a loud thump somewhere near him. He paused, slowing his heavy breathing.

"Toby?" Something rammed into him from behind, throwing him to the forest floor with surprising strength. He felt something straddle his back, while his right arm was twisted and restrained, shoving him further into the dirt. Tim growled, the element of surprise wore off and he twisted around, throwing his attacker off of him. Toby quickly regained his footing, launching at Tim with a swinging fist. It struck him in the lower jaw, his head exploding with blinding pain. A hand flew to his face in an attempt to soothe the throbbing.

"Why the hell did you follow me?" Toby hissed, voice muffled by his metal mouth guard. Tim blinked rapidly, the pain slowly beginning to subside as he and Toby cautiously circled each other. Tim would fight if he had to, but beating up a teenager was not something he wanted to add to his list of fucked up shit he's done. He held up his hands in submission, Tobias flinching ever so slightly.

"Because you need help," he began slowly. He couldn't see the boy's expression, but the sneer in his voice was audible.

"I don't need help." He replied, lunging forward again. Once more he swung with a right hook instead of using his hatchets, which Tim found odd. He dodged it this time, swaying to the side and grabbing the boy's wrist in his hand. Toby was fast, very strong, and several inches taller than he was, but Tim made up for it in strength and body mass. He easily twisted Toby's arm and threw him to the ground, pushing a knee into his chest. Tobias growled, struggling underneath Tim's heavy weight. His free hand pounded into Tim's side. The kid was a fighter, that was for sure. Tim grabbed a fistful of Toby's jacket in each hand and stood up, swinging him around and shoving his back into the trunk of a nearby tree.

"OOF-" Toby wheezed, the breath knocked from his chest leaving him winded.

"Yes, you do." Tim said lowly, searching the younger man's hardened gaze. Toby stopped struggling, instead going limp in Tim's grip and looking away in exasperation. In the moonlight Tim could just barely make out tears beginning to well in his eyes. "I can help you Toby." He winced at his own words, not even he was super confident in that claim. "Well, I'm certainly going to try."

"Why?" Toby said quietly, his voice cracking with the sob that threatened to escape him. Tim softened his grip, taking a step back to allow Toby to breath. "You don't understand what I do. What I've had to do," he spoke bitterly, refusing to meet Tim's gaze. "You don't understand." God. He reminded him so much of Jay. He took in a shaky breath, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans and rocking back and forth on his heels.

"It followed me since I was nine. I thought I was crazy, hell everyone did. I practically lived in those psych hospitals," he sniffed hard, willing his voice not to shake. "I guess it latches onto the mentally ill. But by the time I got to college I was doing pretty good. I thought I was anyways," he looked Toby in the eye, the boy slowly lifting his head to curiously listen to Tim ramble. "It's my fault it tormented my friends. It's my fault they all I died." by now Toby was looking at him intently, his hand reaching up to pull down his frightening face mask. "I know all about the memory loss, the changes to your personality, the hallucinations. Even the killing."

"Y-you've killed someone?" Toby asked, his tone incredulous but soft. Tim nodded.

"A good friend from college. He was too lost to the Operator I..." he sighed, shoulders slumped. "I had to do it." For Brian. For Jay. For Seth and Amy, whatever happened to them he didn't want to know. "It's a long story." he finished. Toby shuffled forward, hands sheepishly in his jacket pockets.

"I'd... I'd like to hear it." he whispered. Tim huffed, a small smile on his lips.

"How about we talk over dinner in a warm room and not in the cold as fuck forest?" he suggested, lightly punching the boy in the shoulder. Toby glanced over his shoulder, staring off into the dark woods with a solemn look on his face before swinging back around to Tim.

"Sure."


End file.
